Bluequartz
by MidnightandMoonlight
Summary: After taken from her home, Zin the otter must overcome all odds with only a small group of friends to gain freedom for all, but is it possible to defeat Dartal Croth's army with a group so small?
1. Chapter 1

Bluequartz  
Part 1- The Prisoner  
Chapter 1  
  
Swifttail, the brown squirrel who was Abbess of Redwall Abbey, stood on the walltops. It was a beautiful spring day, and even the Dibbuns seemed to be behaving. She hopped down the stairs and walked to the pond, where the little rascals were playing. She didn't stay long, for within minutes, the cooks had rung the dinner bell for the Nameday feast. After nearly being run over by a crowd of infants, she sped off to the hall with the rest of them.  
  
After everyone had taken their seats, (which was quite a challenge for the Dibbuns) Swifttail stood. "I'd like to thank all of those who made this feast possible for us tonight. The cooks, Kulty the shrew, Lingwo the mole, and Karon the hedgehog; Awnsie, our cellarhog; and all the other good creatures here tonight. Let the feast begin!"  
  
Everyone greeted these words with a roar of approval, and the Dibbuns proceeded to throw food at Karon, the fat cook, when the Abbess wasn't looking. Karon grinned at the children and stuffed the food into her mouth before Swifttail noticed.  
  
"Yer too soft on 'em, mate," Kulty told him.  
  
"Aw, they on'y live once friend. Why not let 'em live it?"  
  
On the other side of the table, three hares visiting from Salamandastron were scoffing to their heart's content. The nurse, a kind old mouse named Shart, eyed them nervously, muttering something about stomachs exploding and having to physick them back together. The hares choked on their scones and proceeded to eat a bit slower.  
  
The Skipper of Otters, two other otters, and a fourth hare were having a hotroot pepper contest. A group of Dibbuns cheered them on as they loaded their skilly'n'duff with as many peppers as they could take. Shart looked their way, and they stopped, pretending to be innocent until she looked away.  
  
Swifftail was consulting with Prendail, the gatekeeper, about the marvelous feast. Moles were digging in to their Deeper'n'ever-turnip'n'tater pie. Otters ate hotroot, Dibbuns threw food, hares overstuffed themselves, and everyone ate until there was no room left in their stomachs. But the party was far from over.  
  
It was time for the games.  
  
Meanwhile, Thisa, an old ottermum, made her way through the forest of Mossflower. She had nothing with her, except for a small child, not more than three seasons old. Thisa, however, was exhausted, but then she saw the huge Abbey looming up in front of her. She knew she was saved.  
  
The old otter could hear the merriment going on inside. They were in the midst of the games, but Thisa didn't know that. She could tell that they were having a good time, and that there was plenty of food for everyone. She set the babe down and knocked on the large gates. No answer came. She knocked harder, but could not be heard over the shouting of the Abbeybeasts.  
  
Despite all her efforts, she was not heard. She knocked until she could knock no more, and then Thisa fainted at the gates of Redwall.  
  
After the Dibbuns had been herded back to their beds, and some of the older creatures had also begun to retire to sleep, Swifttail and Prendail were still awake, helping some others to clean up. "What a success, Pren! I never expected my first feast as Abbess to go so well!"  
  
"I knew ye could do it, miss. Yer a great Abbess, no mistake."  
  
"Pren, you great suck-up! I'm not so great!"  
  
"Don' be so 'ard on yerself, missy. Ye-- What was that?" Prendail had heard a peculiar noise, much like a cry.  
  
"What, Prendail? What is it?" Swifttail paused. Then, out of nowhere, she heard it too. The cry of a child. "Shart," she called, "Are all the Dibbuns in bed?"  
  
"Every one, lady."  
  
"Skipper, check outside the gates!"  
  
The big otter opened the gates and started to walk out of the Abbey, then nearly tripped over a big lump on the ground. "Goodness, Abbess! Thar's an ottermaid an' 'er chil' out 'ere, an' I nearly tripped over 'em!"  
  
"Bring 'em in, Skip! 'Urry!"  
  
Shart rushed to the otter and her baby, and directed Skipper. "Pick her up gently now! I'll hold the child, keep her head steady! We must get them to the Infirmary. Oh, the poor creatures, they'll be alright in my care."  
  
The next morning, Thisa awoke. "Wh-where... am I?"  
  
"You're in Redwall Abbey, friend. Don't worry, you'll be safe here," Shart assured her. "I'm Shart, the healermouse. Who are you?"  
  
"I'm Thisa, and my daughter is Kelzina, or Zin. We used to live in a beautiful cove by the west shores. Everyone was happy there, but then... Then Dartal Croth came."  
  
"Dartal Croth?"  
  
"Yes. Shall I tell you my story?"  
  
"Wait. Let me get the Abbess and Prendail. They need to hear this too." The mouse left to get the others, but when she returned, the otter had fainted again. 


	2. Chapter 2

The warm night was pleasant to be out in, but yet unwelcoming at the  
same time. Although the temperature seemed warm and inviting, the  
night was dark and moonless, and it was silent. So silent. Not even  
the crickets were chirping. Through the darkness, a tall and slender  
figure, darker than the night itself, slipped through the shadows.  
  
The figure carried a long and magnificent sword. Only a creature of  
great strength could carry such an object, but this beast was  
obviously an extraordinary being. The hilt was slender and gilded with  
silver, and it was easy to hold for all that could lift it. The blade  
was even more spectacular than the hilt. It was sharper than the  
sharpest knife, and it was of unusual color. The sword was blue.  
  
The carrier bragged that his sword was made of Bluequartz. Not many  
knew of this precious stone. Many had doubted that it existed. But it  
was true. This sword had been forged across the sea, by otters whose  
weapon making skills could surpass even the greatest badger lord. The  
owner was not the rightful owner of the sword. He had stolen it, for  
though the otters were skilled at making, their swordsmanship was  
nowhere near as good. That had been seasons ago, however. Too long ago  
to count.  
  
The creature was a rat, cloaked from head to toe in a silvery black  
cloth. He slipped through the night silently, towards the one light  
for miles. It was a camp of a large group of vermin, and they all  
served him. He was the great warlord, Dartal Croth.  
  
He entered the camp so swiftly and quietly that not even the sentries  
on guard noticed him. They never did, and Dartal knew they never  
would. They were his best, and they still couldn't notice him. It  
wasn't their fault. It was his. His fault for blending into the night.  
  
No one knew that their leader had returned until he sat down amongst  
them and warmed his paws in the fire. None of them spoke, and many  
were too ashamed to look at him. The grimace on the rat's face assured  
them that he was in a foul mood.  
  
Their suspicions were confirmed when the evil warlord stood up and  
glared at his followers. He spoke, and his voice was cool and icy,  
like the sound of the wind in the trees. His voice was naught but an  
angry whisper, but everyone heard him. The only sounds were his voice  
and the crackling of the fire.  
  
"You are a group of imbecilic fools." No one spoke. They had expected  
this. "I trained you to be a bunch of ruthless fighting machines, and  
you allowed yourselves to be defeated by a group of OTTERS?"  
  
One particularly brave stoat objected. "Lord, we didn' exactly lose.  
They retreated, an' we got plenny o' new slaves. I'd say we did pretty  
go--"  
  
"SILENCE! I told you, kill them all or take them prisoner. You let  
some escape, and you know what that means?" No one dared to look at  
Dartal anymore. He was in a worse mood than he had been in a long  
time, and if Dartal Croth was in a bad mood, everyone was. "It means  
that they will go and tell others about us. How can we ambush anyone  
if they know we are coming? I'll tell you what we have to do now.  
We'll return to Antroth, drop off the slaves, and come back for this  
Abbey place."  
  
The vermin started to look at each other, bewildered. After their long  
journey, Croth wanted them to return to Antroth, the vermin city in  
which many of them had been born? The stoat commented to his leader,  
"But sir, tha' journey'll take at leas' a season! An' another season  
t'get back! It'll take forever!"  
  
The rat didn't yell at him this time. His eyes were burning balls of  
fire. "Exactly. By the time we return, they'll have completely  
forgotten about us. We leave tomorrow at dawn."  
  
Dartal Croth was on the move.  
  
******************************************************************  
  
At that moment, Thisa had awoken again to find that Shart, Swifttail,  
Prendail, and several other creatures had gathered around her bed. She  
gazed up at them, unable to speak from weakness. Shart gave her a  
glass of water, and after several minutes, she found her voice. "So,  
you all want to hear my story?"  
  
Everyone in the room nodded solemnly.  
  
"I warn you, my story is not a happy one. It is a sad story, full of  
pain and death. The children will not like it. I'm quite positive that  
you will not like it. If you are sure, let me tell you my sad tale."  
  
*********************************************************************  
  
"It all started when I was younger. My father used to live far away,  
far, far east of here. We were all happy in a small colony by a river.  
The river had no name, but it was charming and welcoming all the same.  
We had all the food we wanted and needed, and many friends. But no  
enemies. It seemed too perfect.  
  
"One Autumn day, years ago, when I was two seasons past dibbunhood, he  
came. Not Dartal Croth, but his father, Perennial Croth. He was a rat,  
a black one, darker than the night on which he came. He and his  
ferocious army surrounded us, and took us by surprise. We were  
celebrating the birthday of my uncle, and we were not paying any  
attention to our surroundings. And why would we? Who was there to  
fear?  
  
"In instants, our colony was surrounded. Vermin were everywhere,  
everywhere you turned! Perennial strode into the camp, and asked in an  
icy voice who was in charge.  
  
"My father, being the chief of the colony, spoke up quickly, hoping  
for the safety of our people. Two strong ferrets seized him  
immediately, and escorted him to the rat. He didn't object, being the  
kind otter that he was.  
  
"Perennial announced clearly and plainly that we were all his slaves  
from that moment. My father objected to this, saying that we were free  
creatures who served no one. He was bound and beaten, right in front  
of us all. The horde started to round us up, and bound us one by one.  
My uncle, somehow, was able to sneak away with me.  
  
"On a hill, from a distance, we watched as our beloved colony of  
otters was enslaved. A few tried to fight back. They were instantly  
and mercilessly slaughtered. I remember how wet with tears my face was  
that night. We fell asleep in a hollow tree, praying that the vermin  
wouldn't find us.  
  
"The next morning, our colony was gone. The huts, the orchards,  
everything. Many of it had burned. Our faces were wet with tears for a  
long time. Unable to stay for the memories, we left home that very  
day."  
  
The otter stopped, tears forming in her sad eyes. "I cannot continue  
today. Please, let me save the rest for another time. I must rest."  
  
Shart, a sensitive mouse, was also crying. "You poor creature! I  
understand dear. Get some sleep." 


End file.
